


A Time and A Place

by CatS81



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatS81/pseuds/CatS81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carolyn and Douglas get slightly carried away in The Windsock Arms...and Martin has terrible timing....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time and A Place

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Cabin Pressure’ sadly does not belong to me – all characters were created, and rightly belong to, the amazing John Finnemore.
> 
> A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you don’t mind, I’m well into indulging my Carolyn/Douglas thing at the moment, and the muse is seemingly never satisfied ;) This is set just after the end of ‘Kuala Lumpur’ (when Carolyn and Douglas are in the makeshift pub) but before ‘Limerick’, and I’ve kind of implied that Douglas’ marriage to Helena is over (though of course we don’t learn that in canon until ‘Limerick’, so forgive me for taking liberties!). It was sort of inspired by a scene in ‘Doc Martin’ where Stephanie Cole’s character is caught in flagrante by none other than her nephew, Martin….It kinda did funny things to my brain ;)
> 
> This is the first time I’ve ever tried to write for (our!) Martin – so please, please tell me if you don’t think he hits the mark. I’ve found him quite tricky, and I’m absolutely open to concrit so don’t hold back ;) Anyways, thanks so much for reading – I know Carolyn/Douglas is not everyone’s bag so I do really appreciate it.

Carolyn Knapp-Shappey took a long draw from her drink and sighed in satisfaction at the pleasantly sharp sensation of the gin against her taste-buds, the spirit coating her throat with an agreeable warmth as she slowly swallowed. She watched as her companion poured a drink for himself, her eyes hazily tracking his movements before he settled himself against the makeshift bar, and she turned to stand beside him, nursing her chosen poison at his side in a brief moment of amiable silence.

“Rough day, then?” Douglas Richardson asked eventually, his gravelled tone laced with amusement as she groaned in response and took another enthusiastic pull from her glass, elbowing him irritably in the ribs as he began to chuckle.

“You’re a terrible bar-keep, you know, Douglas. Laughing at the misery of your clientele is hardly considered acceptable landlord etiquette.”

“Well, given that you haven’t actually _paid_ anything for your drink, because as we both know that would be _horrifically_ illegal….”

“Does _not_ give you free rein….”

“Oh, I think it does. Most definitely.”

Carolyn turned her head to glare at him, cobalt eyes darkening. “What do you want, then?”

He smiled devilishly. “Simply to offer a friendly ear, as befits the nature of my role as the purveyor of this establishment.”

“And if I were to give you, say, five pounds? Would that be enough for you to keep your insufferable mouth shut so I can enjoy my drink in peace?”

“ _Such_ a polite customer….”

“It’s my only and final offer.”

“…but, alas, no. That would constitute me selling alcohol on an airfield, would it not?”

“Ah, but I wouldn’t be paying you for the _drink_ , clever pilot; merely for the service of trap-shutting.”

He gave a soft snort of disdain. “I simply enquired after your day; not such an odd thing to do in a pub-like environment when standing with one’s….”

“But in such a presumptive fashion.” She sipped from her glass anew before he could complete his sentence, the liquid warming the bones of her chest. “You know damn well what sort of a day I’ve had.”

“Well, I could hazard a _guess_ , certainly; given your order for twice your usual quantity of gin.”

“Well, _honestly_ ,” she intoned irately. “The third successive day of nine hours in the cabin with Arthur getting progressively _worse_ at stewarding….”

“Is that possible?”

“Oh, it is, trust me.” She shrugged, unable to prevent a fond smile from tugging at her lips. “Though admittedly his strategy for dealing with the pretend passengers was, in the end, quite…inventive. I think you’d have been proud.”

“Even if leading up to that point….”

“It took several years off my life; yes.”

He chuckled and took a sip from his apple juice. “So, did he earn the privilege of your car, then?”

“He did,” she confirmed wryly. “Though on extremely limited terms.”

“It was a foolish wager in the first place, Carolyn.”

“It wasn’t a wager, cretin. Not everybody’s mind works in the same fiendish way as yours.”

“So, it was _prize_?” Douglas tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Even worse.”

“A technique you’ve never employed yourself with your _own_ child, of course.”

“Of course not. My approach to parenting has always been rigorously based on integrity.”

She rolled her eyes at the irony liberally interwoven through his tone. “Sky-God _and_ father-of-the-year; is there no limit to your…?”

“Talents?”

“Arrogance, you clot.”

“Oh, naturally. Because of course as you already know there really _isn’t_ a limit in my talent-department.”

Carolyn swiftly raised a warning palm at the insinuation behind his words. “Stop it. Now.”

“Not two words you’ve _ever_ muttered when it comes to the most _significant_ of my talents, Lyn.”

“Really?” she rebutted easily, turning her head towards him and raising an eyebrow. “Not even ‘you can _stop it now_ , Douglas, I’m practically asleep’?”

“Hm,” he drawled airily, evidently pretending to search his memory. “I can recall several occasions where you’ve been on the point of _passing out_ , certainly….”

“Yes: through boredom.”

“…though those always occurred after you’d _begged_ me to….”

“I do _not_ beg.”

He grinned at the typically ferocious denial, the fire igniting in her eyes an enticing contrast to their icy hue. “Well, maybe not in the traditional sense.”

“Not in _any_ sense. In _any_ arena.” Carolyn drained her glass in one fluid motion before fixing him with a trademark glare. “No more now, Douglas; understood?”

He raised an eyebrow at her empty glass. “Gin, madam? That’s not like you.”

“Of _course_ more gin, stupid pilot; I was, as you well know, referring to the other.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to spell it out for me, Carolyn….”

“Given your immense propensity for stupidity, you mean?” She gave a long-suffering sigh at his deliberate obtuseness and resultant amused laugh. “Innuendo is all very well and good when we’re alone….”

“We _are_ alone, Carolyn. I thought you might have noticed the distinct lack of other patrons since you gave Martin his marching orders….”

“…but slip up when we’re on the clock and I _will_ kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

His grin widened rakishly. “Slowly and painfully can be _good_.”

“Oh, for goodness sake! Are you sixty or sixteen?”

“Neither, as it happens.”

“I was rounding up. My God, this midlife crisis has got you seriously in denial.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Now get me another drink, and shut your _bloody_ mouth.”

His laughter deepened as he moved away from her to prepare her second beverage, his fingers lightly brushing hers as he handed her back the glass several moments later and took his place again at her side, her shoulder pleasantly nestled against his ribcage as he wordlessly positioned his body closer to hers than before. She sipped more slowly at her drink this time, enjoying the resulting relaxation as it crept along the lengths of her limbs, the slight abating of the tension across her shoulders as she allowed the first layers of her defences to fall away.

“Better?” he inquired huskily after several further seconds had passed, grinning at her affected sigh as he risked slipping his free arm about her waist, studiously ignoring her loud tut of disapproval as he drew her infinitesimally closer towards him.

“You’re pushing your luck,” she warned mildly even as she failed to pull away, annoyed that she was quietly thrilled by the snug fit of their bodies, the agreeable pressure of his palm at her hip.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, inhaling the scent of her. “There’s no-one here, Lyn.”

“Yes, well; that’s not really the point, is it? Given what I was just saying.”

“And I was listening to every word, obviously.”

“I would certainly hope so,” she replied sharply at his sardonic intonation. “If you know what’s good for you.”

He gave a brief grunt of laughter. “I know damn well what’s good for….”

“Oh, ha ha. Funny, _funny_ pilot.”

“To be fair, Carolyn, you _did_ rather walk into that one.”

She narrowed her eyes, refusing to concede his point. “And just how generous _was_ that last measure of gin?”

“It was _meticulous_ ; would you expect anything less?”

“Nothing to do with you trying to gain the advantage?”

“You’d be disappointed if I wasn’t; surely?”

“I’d be pleasantly surprised; put it that way.” Carolyn fractionally inclined her head. “Though the day you manage to surprise me in any way, shape or form….”

“Could well be today.”

“I highly doubt it.” She took a luxuriously long pull from her drink, draining the glass before she realised it and drawing a slow breath, relishing the slight haze that had settled in layers through her mind.

He gave a low chuckle and squeezed her closer. “Gin doing the trick, is it?”

“Hm,” she replied noncommittally, narrowing her eyes testily. “Not that you’re advocating drinking as a means of escapism, of course….”

“Well, of _course_ I am. It’s a _terrific_ way of….”

“Oh, do stop it.”

“There is however an even _better_ method for stress relief that’s definitely more of a dead cert.”

Carolyn steadfastly disregarded his insinuation, even as his thumb began to stroke gently at her waist. “There most certainly is: an outrageously hot bath and a full eight hours of sleep.”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Or_ …?”

“Let’s see: a decadently large bar of chocolate and an indulgent read of a book?”

“Yes; not _quite_ as effective as what I’ve got in mind.”

She grinned teasingly. “Oh, I don’t know….”

“Well, let’s put it to the test, shall we? We’ll try my method now and you can try yours at your leisure.”

“How terribly scientific of you.”

“Is that a tacit agreement, Lyn?”

“Of course not,” she snapped in asperity as she turned slightly to face him. “Why on earth would it be?”

“Oh, no idea,” he intoned casually in apparent amusement. “Nothing at all to do with the fact that we’ve spent the last six or so weeks….”

“What?”

“…doing what we’ve been doing.”

Carolyn’s cerulean eyes flashed dangerously. “I seem to recall that it’s largely involved me indulging you whilst you re-bound pathetically from your latest disaster of a marriage.”

“Charming.” Douglas met her glare unflinchingly. “Cutting to the quick, as always, I see.”

“Well, hasn’t it?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Lyn…but you could have said ‘no’ at any time.”

“I’m saying it _now_ , Douglas.”

“Spoil sport.” He grinned, prising the glass from her fingers before moving to stand in front of her, and she sighed in self-directed irritation as he pressed her gently against the bar, unable to push him away despite the protestations of her better judgement.

“You’re not serious?” she inquired, catching the determined glint in his dark eyes as his hands moved to caress her waist anew, her pulse traitorously beginning to quicken beneath his ministrations.

“I most certainly _am_ serious, yes.”

“In here?”

“Why not?”

“I can think of about a thousand reasons why not!”

“Go on, then; make a start and see how far you get.”

He bent to kiss her softly, a simple brushing of his mouth against hers, before he traced a path along her jawline and to her earlobe, capturing it lightly between his teeth, the pressure maddeningly compelling though she was careful to keep her tone even as she stated, “Well, for one thing, it’s _completely_ inappropriate.”

He shrugged, his lips beginning to explore the curve of her neck, the delicately sensitive skin of her throat as he murmured, “No less appropriate than elsewhere on the airfield, to be fair.”

She felt herself flush, mortified as she recalled the occasions to which he was referring: their recent frenetic couplings atop her desk in the portacabin, the glorious, arrogant weight of him pressed up against her in GERTI’s flight deck and hangar; even one particularly reckless moment of abandon where she had stroked him to completion mid-flight, the battle for supremacy spurring them both on until he was helpless and panting beneath the triumphantly insistent motions of her fingers.

It had become something of a holding pattern for them over the years whenever either one of them was in crisis; they had helped each other through separation, divorce, bereavement and frustration simply by means of physical release, the arrangement suiting them both with its steadfast refusal to become more complicated than was desired.

Admittedly, she mused, supressing a gasp as his tongue unerringly located her pulse-point, this most recent dalliance had gone on for far longer than any previous indulgence. In times past it had involved sporadic nights, the odd infrequent afternoon, but presently more than six weeks had elapsed and his need was showing no sign of waning. She had even, though it was strictly against the rationality of her better judgement, spent a whole night in his bed, the feeling of his satiated body relaxing into slumber beside her causing an unwanted stirring in the depths of her heart. She had refused to dwell on it subsequently, forcing herself instead to focus on his prowess, on his irritatingly adept ability to make her body keen with pleasure like no-one else had ever managed to quite such a startling degree.

“Yes, well; leaving all that aside…,” she rallied determinedly, sternly breaking herself from her reverie and trying to focus once more on her resistance to his insatiable persistence . “Reason number two….”

He chuckled, pulling away from her slightly to kiss her mouth anew. “You don’t really think you can get to a thousand, do you?”

She held his gaze fearlessly, though allowed him to kiss her again. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge to me.”

“A _thousand_ , Carolyn?”

“Reason number two,” she reiterated firmly. “Any bloody idiot could walk in….”

“Also true for the portacabin and the hangar.” He grinned in an infuriatingly superior fashion, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that actually constitutes a separate reason.”

“Is this your list or mine?”

He brushed his lips teasingly against hers anew, his voice warm and rich. “Oh, by all means, carry on.”

“Fine,” she responded in a clipped tone, their mouths separating abruptly. “Then attend to reason number three, smug idiot: we are neither of us hormonal teenagers who cannot control themselves….”

“Rubbish.” Douglas exhaled derisively, running his hands lightly up and down her ribcage and grinning annoyingly as her breath caught unbidden in her chest. “Teenagers don’t have a monopoly on….”

“…which leads me nicely on to reason number four: even if I _was_ amenable to the idea….”

“I think you’re more than amenable….”

She shot him a warning glare. “Even if I _was_ …there is no way on this _earth_ that your knees would cope, given your less-than-Adonis-like physique.”

His smile broadened wolfishly, readily ignoring the transparently erroneous barb as he pulled her closer. “Now _that_ sounds like a challenge.”

“You are _preposterously_ incorrigible.”

He laughed huskily, his smooth voice falling to a lower, silkier register. “Oh, encourage me, Lyn, for God’s sake.”

Her token sound of feigned protest was lost as his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss, his lips moving roughly, and she was silently furious as she heard herself moan at the intoxicatingly familiar taste of him, her arousal spiralling instantly beyond her control as he ran his tongue ran sensuously across her bottom lip. His hands had both moved to cup her face, his fingers tugging firmly at her hair to control the depth, the pressure of his kisses, his tongue slipping easily over hers as his mouth moved relentlessly, her thoughts increasingly erratic as he kissed her passionately, her breath shuddering in shallow gasps from her lungs as she forced herself to break away.

His body was purposefully flush to hers, his chest heaving ragged breaths even as she applied pressure with her palms. “I mean it,” she told him firmly. “That’s enough.”

He moved to claim her neck with his lips and smiled, his teeth nipping her skin anew. “Your heart-rate would beg to differ, madam.”

“I blame the alcohol….” She broke off with a soft groan as he continued unrelentingly, the reasons for not allowing him to continue beginning to blur haphazardly behind her eyes. “Douglas….”

“Just think about the stress relief….”

“Mine or yours?”

His smile broadened as he teased her between kisses. “Oh, yours; naturally.”

“Hm. I should damn well think so.”

He laughed again, the sound intense and deep as his fingers started to undo the buttons of her blouse. “You only made it to four, by the way.”

“What?”

“Reasons. A paltry effort, by anyone’s standards.”

Carolyn fixed him with a vicious stare, gripping one of his wrists to still his movements. “Would you like me to continue?”

“Good Lord, no. Would you like _me_ to continue?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, just get on with it. At least do me the courtesy of making it quick.”

He laughed throatily. “I think we’ve got that down to a fine art by now, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes, though allowed her hand to fall away from his, aware that her skin was becoming warm as he exposed her chest to the air, flushing beneath the heat of his intense scrutiny as he eyed her with unreservedly hungry desire. She sucked in a ragged breath as his palm closed fervently over the generous swell of her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple through the delicate sapphire lace of her bra, and she felt her eyes drift shut as she revelled in the sensation of edgy electricity tracking the lengths of her nerves and pulsing achingly between her thighs.

Within seconds he was kissing her again, sucking her tongue fiercely into his mouth and she felt her arousal intensify as he groaned against her, the sound emanating from low in his throat and reverberating huskily into her body. His hand was still caressing her breast, shards of pleasure lancing through every inch of her and driving any residual reservations from her mind, and she gasped as his lips moved back to her neck, unable to stop herself from murmuring her somewhat breathless appreciation.

“ _Douglas_ ….”

She felt him smile, his voice like honeyed velvet as it growled against her skin, “Tell me what you want, Lyn.”

She caught herself before she could whimper her acute need into the dwindling space between them, sliding her hand southwards and pressing firmly against the strong lines of his erection, eliciting a deep groan from his throat as he pushed in counterpoint into her palm. She fumbled briefly with his belt as he brought their mouths together anew, before nimbly undoing his trousers enough to slip her fingers inside, gripping his potent hardness in determination, thrills prickling through her as he began to raggedly curse.

“ _Fuck_ ….Lyn….”

She grinned triumphantly as she pulled slightly away to regard him, his dark eyes almost pupil-less with lust, his breathing savagely uneven as she deftly negotiated the final layer of his clothing to curl her fingers about his thickly engorged length, steel enrobed in silk. “Whatever happened to this being about me?”

He hissed sharply through his teeth as she began to rhythmically stroke him beneath his uniform. “Keep doing that…and it’ll be a moot point.”

“Just try thinking of your operations manual.”

“ _Far_ too late for that,” he groaned huskily, pushing instinctively into her hand and roughly capturing her mouth again, his fingers moving to the zip of her skirt. “ _Christ_ , I want you….”

“ _Really_? You could have made it more obvious instead of leaving me guessing….”

She smiled victoriously against his lips as he gave a rough grunt before allowing herself to become lost in the obstinate heat of him, the delicious sensations his tongue was eliciting in every nerve of her body, her thoughts spiralling further beyond her control, and she heard herself begin to pant in anticipation as his hands began to push insistently at the material of her skirt.

It was only the sound of a startled exclamation from across the room moments later that made them break guiltily apart in panic, Carolyn feeling her skin scorch in mortification as she heard Douglas’ disbelieving reactive shout,

“Jesus! _Martin_?!”

She felt the room begin to spin in slow motion as Douglas touched her shoulder, encouraging them both to turn away from their stunned onlooker, her fingers shaking as she hurried to reconnect the buttons of her blouse, aware that Douglas was desperately trying to regain control over his body as he hastily reached for his zip, his impressive erection still stubbornly straining against the confines of his trousers.

Martin Crieff had turned an intense shade of red, his cheeks flaming with his discomfiture as Carolyn forced herself to reorient back to face him, embarrassment saturating the air between the three of them as the young pilot took a stuttering breath, his eyes scanning the surface of the bar almost hysterically.

“My phone,” he stammered by way of explanation, skittering towards the bar and grabbing frantically at the object in question. “Left my bloody phone….”

“Martin…,” Carolyn attempted gently, her chest contracting painfully in humiliation as he studiously avoided her gaze.

“I’m so sorry….Oh, _God_ , I had no idea! I’ll just….I’ll leave you to it….” He looked increasingly more flustered as the unintentional implication behind his words suddenly occurred to him. “I mean, not _it_ , obviously; I hope I’m _not_ going to leave you to _it_ …not that you shouldn’t be….Oh, _God_ ….”

He flew out of the door in a flurry of distress, and Carolyn released a constricted breath into the abruptly deafening silence. “Shit,” she intoned vehemently, unable to prevent the atypical expletive, her usual eloquence abandoning her as her mind tumbled backwards over the previous few minutes in a whirl of anxiety. “ _Shit_.”

Douglas exhaled forcibly at her side and ran a hand roughly though his hair. “Quite.”

“What did I say about this being a terrible idea, Douglas?”

“Funnily enough, Carolyn, I seem to have misplaced my crystal ball.” He blew out another irate breath at the accusatory note of her tone. “Do you want me to go after him?”

“Well, _I’m_ not going after him. The poor boy looked like he was about to have a heart attack; the last thing he needs is the boss he’s just caught in a compromising position chasing him down to talk about it.”

“I imagine he’ll need some mental disinfectant, certainly.”

Carolyn glared at him, firmly ignoring how attractive she found him in his current dishevelled state, the still-elevated pulse pounding in her neck. “It’s not funny, Douglas.”

“Did I say that it was?”

“It’s about the furthest thing from funny that it’s possible to be.”

“I’m not laughing, Carolyn.”

She gave a heavy sigh and squeezed her eyes closed, recalling the expression of shocked aversion on the face of her Captain with an increasing sense of horror. “Oh, God.”

“It’s not as bad as all that….”

“It could hardly be worse,” she countered fiercely. “He saw…For God’s sake, Douglas, we were practically….”

“I’ll deal with it, Lyn; alright?”

She held his eye, searching his expression for sincerity and feeling her tension marginally recede as she took in the calmly authoritative demeanour, the determined set to his jaw. “Well, go on, then,” she told him tartly, feeling a sudden desire to reassert herself and her control over the situation. “Before he gets in his car and you lose any chance at damage limitation.”

“Fine.” He moved towards the door before glancing back across his shoulder to address her. “Will I see you later?”

Carolyn looked aghast. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Frustration will tend to do that to a man.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” she snapped, though felt herself almost instantly relent, empathy at his unsatisfied yearning coursing through her chest. “Another time, Douglas….”

“That’s me on a promise then, is it?”

“…and, for the love of _God_ , another place.”

He smiled. “It’s a deal.”

She watched him as he disappeared through the door, feeling her legs beginning to weaken as the last of the adrenalin pulsed through her limbs, and she crumpled gratefully into a chair, allowing her eyes to close. _It had to be Martin_ , she mused with a frown. _Of all the people on this bloody airfield, it had to be Martin, didn’t it? It couldn’t possibly have been a mechanic or a cleaner, or someone I don’t have to see on a regular basis…._ She sighed deeply, embarrassment pouring over her anew as she pictured the look of sheer humiliation on the young pilot’s face, the waves of panic contorting his features, though she rallied stoically as a further thought occurred to her. _At least it wasn’t Arthur. Oh, God, that really could have been world-changing_. She took a grateful breath and rubbed a hand across her face before rising to her feet again and stalking back towards the bar. Silently she scoured the bottles until she found the whiskey, pouring two generous fingers and bringing the glass to her lips, the amber liquid burning down her throat and settling acidly in her stomach. _Douglas will sort it_ , she told herself firmly. _He absolutely and categorically **has** to._

* * *

 

“Martin!”

Douglas strode into the car park, the object of his attention freezing momentarily at the sound of his name before continuing his hurried transit across the tarmac, evidently determined to reach the safe haven of his vehicle before Douglas could catch up to him.

“Martin, come on! Just stop, would you?”

The younger man fumbled for his car keys, swearing softly as they slipped through his fingers and onto the ground, and he bent to hastily retrieve them, determinedly avoiding Douglas’ eye as he straightened again. “I’ve got to get going, Douglas. Busy day tomorrow.”

“This won’t take a minute.”

“No, really, I don’t _have_ a minute. I need to get to the supermarket before it shuts and….”

“Martin.”

The young pilot sighed at the firm authoritativeness of the older man’s tone, and he turned reluctantly to face him though his gaze was studiously focussed on his shoes. “I don’t want to talk about this, Douglas. I absolutely don’t.”

“And you think I _do_?” The First Officer intoned derisively as he closed the final steps between them, marginally breathless with the effort of practically chasing the Captain down. “I am however reluctantly invoking the Nuremberg Defence.”

Martin gave a soft snort. “Carolyn’s orders, then?”

“Naturally.” The younger man exhaled and blinked, to his credit flickering his eyes towards Douglas as he tried for a light-hearted, “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say something like ‘It wasn’t what it looked like’?”

“Oh, good Lord, no.” Douglas tone was laced with amusement, his smile vaguely rakish. “It was _exactly_ what it looked like.”

Martin grimaced, his expression contorting. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Yes, well…for once I won’t try and insult your intelligence.”

The younger man blew out an incredulous breath and he shook his head disbelievingly. “You and Carolyn?”

Douglas attempted a nonchalant shrug. “That’s about the size of it.”

“You and _Carolyn_?!”

“Just keeping saying it, Martin; it won’t make it any less true.”

“But…but…I mean…,” the Captain stuttered. “Aren’t you _married_? I mean, I _know_ you’re married; I’ve met your wife…so….so you’re….”

Douglas heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache tightening around his sinuses. “It’s all…rather….”

“Oh, please don’t say ‘complicated’. Now that really _is_ insulting my intelligence.”

“Well, I _will_ say it because it’s true.”

Martin shook his head in blatant disapproval. “How long’s it been going on?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! It bloody well does matter!”

“Why?”

“Because all that stuff about your anniversary, all that….”

“Fine, then. About a month or so.” He inclined his head, the successive words leaving his throat before he could stop them. “This most recent dalliance, at any rate.”

“ _What_?!”

Douglas sighed at the vague hysteria edging his colleague’s tone. “Carolyn and I have known each other a long time, Martin. Make of that whatever you like.”

“Well, I _don’t_ like, funnily enough.” The pilot ran a slightly shaking hand through his auburn curls. “It’s bad enough that I walked in on the two of you with her hand down your…When you were just about to….”

“Yes. I think we’ve established what it is we were about to do.”

“….I really, _really_ don’t want to think about what it means. Especially if it’s some kind of…long-standing thing.”

“As I said: you can draw your own conclusions.”

Martin sucked in a hasty breath before blowing it out forcibly. “Bloody _hell_ , Douglas.”

Douglas spread his palms in a gesture of placation. “Look, it was…unfortunate timing, I’ll grant you that….”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“…and I’m sorry you had to witness it.”

“Not as sorry as I am; trust me.” The younger man sighed once more, his discomfort abundantly clear. “Does Helena have any idea?”

“About?”

“Are you joking?” Martin looked horrified. “You’re having an _affair_ with Carolyn!”

Douglas took a step forward, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. “Not that this is any of your business, you understand….”

“You were in a public place, for crying out loud!”

“…but just for the record, I am _not_ , nor have I _ever_ been, having an affair with Carolyn.”

“So sleeping with someone other than your wife doesn’t constitute an affair?”

Douglas exhaled derisively. “Oh, spare me the lecture on morality, Father Crieff. Please.”

“Well, doesn’t it?”

“It’s…just not as straightforward as all that.”

Martin frowned, his tone beginning to take on an edge of indignation. “It _is_ as straightforward as all that.”

“And this is in your _vast_ experience of marriage, is it, sir?”

Martin cringed at the sarcasm liberally threaded through the older man’s deep baritone. “Well, what else would you call it?”

Douglas shrugged, his expansive shoulders rising and falling. “I’d prefer not to label it as either one thing or another.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“I just….I thought you were _happily_ married, and….Well, happily married people don’t…do that.”

“ _Don’t_ they?”

“Do they?”

“Are you asking me, Martin, or telling me?”

“I don’t know!” The younger man threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t know.”

“Well, let me tell _you_ : things happen in the course of a marriage; things you don’t necessarily expect.”

The younger man looked sceptical. “You’re not saying you couldn’t help yourself?”

“I’m saying things happen. And there isn’t usually an innocent party, contrary to popular belief.”

“With _Carolyn_ , though?”

“Why _not_ Carolyn?”

“Because she’s….she’s your _boss_ , for one thing!”

“And your point is?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Douglas,” Martin shot back scornfully. “Something about professionalism? Appropriate conduct?”

Douglas huffed out a forceful breath. “Before today, did you have any idea that there was something going on?”

“Of course not!”

“So that answers your question about professionalism, then, does it not?”

“And appropriate conduct? There’s no defence against that one; none whatsoever.”

The older man inclined his head in concession and held up a palm. “Fine. _That_ one, you can have.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“It bothers me that we were _caught_ , certainly.”

Martin covered his face with his hands as the memories surfaced unbidden once more. “Oh, God!”

“Oh, Martin, relax. I’ve admitted that it was in poor judgement; what else do you want me to say?”

The Captain recovered enough to hold the older man’s gaze with an uncharacteristically bold conviction. “I want you to guarantee that it won’t happen again.”

“I hate to break this to you, Captain, but my sex life really _isn’t_ any of your….”

“I meant in _public_ ; as you damn well know. Especially in public at work.” Martin raised his chin in righteous defiance. “The rest of it I’ll leave to your more-than-slightly dubious conscience.”

Douglas was silent for a long moment, his obsidian eyes boring into the younger man’s paler orbs, before he broke the tension with a gruff, “Alright. I personally guarantee it.”

“Good.” The young pilot’s slender shoulders visibly relaxed, his features slackening with relief. “Good.”

“Though you need to guarantee me something in return.”

Martin looked instantly suspicious. “What?”

“That you keep all this completely to yourself. And I do mean absolutely and fundamentally, one hundred percent under your ridiculously colossal hat.”

The younger man raised his eyebrows incredulously, ignoring the pointed jibe. “Who would I tell, for God’s sake? And why would I even _want_ to?”

“No idea on either count; but, even so.”

“Fine.” The young Captain held up his palms in surrender. “I promise I won’t breathe a word of it; not least because it means I’ll have to call it to mind again and quite frankly I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

There was a brief stalemate then, the tension stretching uncomfortably before Douglas broke away with an oppressive sigh, frowning as a further notion occurred to him, his voice softening unbidden as he instructed quietly, “Especially not to Arthur; alright?”

Martin’s expression was one of stunned incredulity. “Well, of _course_ not to Arthur; what on earth do you take me for?”

“All joking aside….”

“I’m hardly about to tell him what you were about to do to his _mother_ , now, am I?”

“Well, that’s just the point; I can only imagine his mother would rather you didn’t.”

Martin gave a shaky sigh and shook his head in disapproval, reaching once more for his car keys and taking a step back towards the vehicle, turning slightly to address his First Officer once more with an unusually forceful tone as he bade, “Don’t mess her about, Douglas. Promise me you won’t.”

Douglas tried for a flippant eye roll, though he was painfully aware of the constriction around the defences of his heart as he dismissed the younger man. “She’s a big girl, Martin.”

“She deserves better.”

“No doubt,” he replied readily, sincerity etched gently into each word. “But she also knows exactly what she’s doing, and so do I.”

“Your track record doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence….”

“I’m sure. But like I said: she’s a big girl.”

Martin paused briefly, his hand hesitating over the door handle as he debated his next question before allowing it to blunder into the silence. “Just…think about what you’re doing, okay? At least _think_ about it…and what the consequences might be. For everyone involved, and not just yourself.”

Douglas raised a pre-emptive palm in a gesture of finality. “No more lectures, Martin. There are some things you can’t solve by memorising the contents of a manual….”

“I just meant….”

“…and nor should you try to.”

The younger man held Douglas’ eye for an elongated moment before he exhaled in a rush of surrender and stepped swiftly into his car. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“You will,” the First Officer replied casually, forcing a lackadaisical quality into his tone that was distinctly at odds with the discomfort tightening about the bones of his chest. “Hong Kong, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I think so. Then almost straight back to Limerick.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Hm,” The Captain murmured noncommittally before risking another sobering glance up towards the older man. “Think about what I said, Douglas. Please.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” Douglas blew out an infuriated breath at the serious expression pervading the younger man’s features. “But if it’ll make you feel better, Martin: fine; I’ll think about it. Happy now?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh, good. Welcome to adulthood.” Douglas intoned acerbically before tapping the roof of the car with his open palm. “Now, for God’s sake, go home, will you? That’s quite enough voyage-of-discovery stuff for one night, I think.”

Martin groaned. “For the rest of my _life_ , believe me.”

The older man barked a short laugh. “Oh, cheer up, Martin. The world’s not about to fall off its axis just because you’ve found out that two of your colleagues are enjoying an active….”

“Don’t.”

“…And, unless I’m very much mistaken, the sun will most definitely still rise in the morning.”

The younger man sighed. “I just don’t know how you can be so….”

“What?”

“Blasé about it all.”

Douglas’ respondent snort was bitter. “Years of practice. But perhaps that’s a discussion for another time.”

“Or not. I’m not sure my brain can take any more.” Martin turned the key in the ignition and the small car purred into life. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Douglas.”

Douglas gave a clipped nod and stepped away from the car, watching as it pulled slowly away across the car park and towards the main road. He allowed himself to release his breath into the inky blackness of the tranquil night, dismayed by the roiling emotion that was savagely burning in his gut and twisting unpleasantly across the breadth of his chest. _Well, that’s…not quite how I imagined this evening would turn out_ , he mused wryly, turning to stalk back across the tarmac and towards the portacabin, sobering instantly as he noted the light still burning incessantly within. _What a royal bloody mess. Christ, it must have been like walking in on your parents…._ The notion caused a bizarre tingling at the base of his skull, his mind suddenly projecting the alternative reality of a life intertwined with Carolyn’s in all respects, of two sons produced from a happy association and an airline business run as a family enterprise, and he shook his head vehemently to break the reverie, panicked by the regret he could feel slicing relentlessly through every facet of his heart.

 _I need to get a handle on this_ , he told himself fiercely. _This is utterly bloody ridiculous. I do **not** want to be with Carolyn…and she sure as hell doesn’t want to be with me._ He frowned darkly, irritated by the nagging sensation that was aggressively bothering his sub-conscious, and he wrestled with it briefly before forcing it into submission, turning abruptly away from his course and striding instead towards his own car. Once within its confines he allowed his head to loll back against the seat before taking a fortifying breath, determinedly going through the motions of starting the engine and sliding the car into gear, and ruthlessly dismissing every other thought that snaked traitorously into his agile mind. The stoically imprudent drive home was a hollow victory of the brutal force of his will against the terrible suspicion of his heart, and he was agonisingly grateful to pull into his drive in a blissful emotional void, all sensation savagely and necessarily suppressed. _At least until the next time_ , he acknowledged reluctantly, the silent vehicle suddenly oppressive. _Always until the next time_.

FIN


End file.
